A Tacky Tourist Coffee Mug
by DownWiththeShip0390
Summary: Writer Hermione Granger goes on a research trip to Paris with her publishing agent, Draco Malfoy. What starts out as a quick business trip leaves both Hermione and Draco a mess. A short dabble filled to the brim with fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I'm not as creative as JKR. Obviously.**

Doors were banging, voices were muttering, and feet were stomping. All of the noise of the publishing office was making the twinge behind his eyes worsen. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy did not appreciate, it was trying to read while a cacophony could be heard outside his office door. If he wasn't waiting to hear a knock from his favorite author, he'd put up the strongest silencing spell he was capable of.

"Is he in?" The voice he'd been waiting all day to hear spoke quietly to his secretary, Magda.

"Yes, Ms. Granger. Shall I get the door for you?" Muffled footsteps stopped outside his door, the handle turned and revealed the two women on the other side.

"Thank you so much, Magda. I appreciate the help." The woman he assumed was Ms. Granger was carrying a stack of books up to her nose. She came into his office and dropped the books onto a corner of his desk.

"Is there anything you need, Mr. Malfoy?" Magda rubbed her palms down the sides of her brown tweed skirt. A new secretary, Magda often became nervous being in the same room as the famous publishing agent. It didn't hurt that he was charming and attractive as well, if only he felt an ounce for her the way he did for the author standing in front of him. Magda sighed to herself, Ms. Granger was a lucky woman.

"No. Thank you, Magda. Please hold any calls and discourage visitors for the next hour." His eyes moved from Magda to the brown-haired woman in front of him, effectively dismissing her from the room.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy." She quietly responded as she shut the door behind her.

Draco Malfoy turned to look at his favorite author. "Hermione Granger. Perfect timing, as usual. I was beginning to get a headache from those blasted editors outside. They make an unnecessary racket. _Silencio_." The loud noises from behind the door ceased immediately, leaving his office in blessed silence. "Now. What's this all about?" He waved a hand towards the stack of books. "I thought you were pitching me a plot today?"

"Good morning to you, too, Draco." She gave him a small smile and sank into the white plush chair in front of his desk.

"My apologies, that was rude of me. Good morning, Ms. Granger. Shall we proceed with our business?" His face held a mocking smile and a raised eyebrow - two tell-tale signs he was teasing her.

"By all means. I've had a new idea for my next book: _Parisian Intrigue_." She paused to gauge his reaction to her proposed title. His gestured for her to continue, but kept his face expressionless. Hermione took a deep breath and launched into the plot and characters she had been working on developing over the past month since she'd handed in her last manuscript. "Gemma Bullard has unwittingly become the center of the French Resistance in Paris when she begins to recognize signals and messages being passed through her nightclub. The story is loosely based on a true story, although the characters have changed gender and many facts will be changed - creative licensing, as it were."

"Where do the books come in?" Draco carefully avoided commenting on pitches until he had all the facts. The stack of books gave him a gut feeling about knowing all the facts before agreeing to support the book.

"They are for research purposes. Obviously. Didn't you look at the titles?" Hermione reached over and began to lay the books out across his desk, hiding the papers covering the surface. He read the titles aloud, " _Paris for Lovers_." He raised a brow. " _French Resistance of Paris_. That could prove helpful for historical accuracy. _Nightclubs in Paris: 1880-1960_. Again, useful. _Paris Travel Guide_. _Eat, Sleep, Play: Paris Edition. 50 Secrets of Paris Travel. Not Just the Eiffel Tower: A Paris Travel Guide._ What's with these last few? Are you going on a trip?" He raised his other brow, effectively hiding them both in the white-blonde fringe across his forehead.

"We. We are going on a trip." Hermione sat back expectantly and folded her hands in her lap. "I could use your attention to detail and passion for historical accuracy to help me research for the book. What do you think?"

Several emotions flitted across his usually passive face in the span of two _ticks_ of the clock on the mantle. She wanted him to join her in Paris? Arguably the most romantic city in the world? Did she appreciate his annoying desire for detail? Hermione Granger needed Draco Malfoy's help? His lips parted with obvious happiness. "Ms. Granger, there's no need to ask me twice! What are the travel plans and when do we leave?" He took out a quill and dipped the tip in the emerald ink pot on his left, prepared to take notes.

Hermione jiggled her legs up and down in excitement, "I was thinking as soon as logistically possible. I want to begin writing when the idea is still fresh. Thank you for all this."

Draco paused in his writing. What did that mean? "What 'all this' are you on about? You don't expect the House to pay for this trip?"

She had the grace to look embarrassed but continued talking anyway. "It's business related, isn't it? Of course, the House should cover the expenses!"

Draco wiped his hand over his face in exasperation. Hermione was lucky she was his favorite author and a best-seller to boot, or she wouldn't get away with half of the requests she did. "I'll tell you what. We can go for three days with one meal a day included and a one room suite at a 3-star hotel. If you want the House to cover it, you can sleep on the couch or buy your own room. Fair?"

That was more than she expected from the usually tight-fisted man. She beamed, "Brilliant! Thank you, Draco."

He nodded with a small smile, he had a feeling he'd be regretting his easy compliance to her request.

 **—** **-**

 **A/N: Hey there! So at least one person expressed interest in a "prequel" sort of story looking back at the Paris trip mentioned in my one-shot —** ** _The Write Side of the Bed_** **. I'm still procrastinating an academic paper so obviously, I began this story instead. I have three chapters completely written, and I'm looking at** ** _A Tacky Tourist Coffee Mug_** **ending at the fifth chapter. Let me know what you think with a quick review! Thanks so much, xoxo Court**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I'm only as fabulous as JKR in my dreams.**

The faucet leaked. The toilet ran. The air con was non-existent. Hermione tossed and turned on the couch, glaring at the closed door behind which Draco Malfoy was most assuredly sleeping soundly. If this was 3-star she was a wart on the end of a hag's nose. She grumbled a little louder hoping to disturb her suite-mate.

"If I can't get sleep, I can't research. If I can't research effectively, I can't write. If I can't write, then this trip was a waste of money on top of being a pain in my neck." Hermione sat up quickly and pounded the couch cushion behind her head into submission. The act of aggression was ineffective and the lump in the pillow only appeared more pronounced.

She sighed long and loud and made a decision: if one more thing occurred that annoyed her she was leaving to get her own room in a nicer hotel and cost be damned. She would simply eat boiled potatoes for the next month to rebalance her accounts, but she could not stand much more of this loathsome experience.

A door slammed down the hall rattling the tiny window. _One_.

"That's the final straw. Draco Malfoy! I know you can hear me in your comfortable bed, so listen up! I'm leaving!" She didn't wait for a reply but jumped off the couch and pushed her few things back into a suitcase. Hermione pulled on a robe over her pajamas. Good thing they were at the inn over the Parisian version of the Leaky Cauldron. She'd only get funny looks for her bunny slippers, not the witch's robe.

The door of Draco's room opened suddenly and she paused at the sight. Well. This was inappropriate. Didn't he understand the concept of business attire? Even her pajamas were button down. She couldn't really complain, though. In fact, maybe she should just stay here. The brunette lowered her suitcase to the floor.

"Hermione Granger. Are you a witch or aren't you? Silence the damn bathroom, cast a cooling charm and a cushioning charm, and maybe even transfigure the couch to a bed. You are more than capable. So do it already. But don't waste your money on another room at this hour." He crossed his arms over his bare chest and waited for her response.

She didn't have much of one, "It's the principle of the matter! This is a horrible room with no view and all I wanted was a nice few nights at a beautiful Parisian hotel after researching for my novel all day! Is that too much to ask?" She was horrified to discover a catch in her throat and a tingle in her nose. She refused to let him see her cry. Refused.

Draco's anger seemed to fade for a moment, but resurged twice as strong, "You wanted a romantic getaway on the House's knut? Hermione Granger, I'm surprised at you. I didn't take you for a Slytherin." He propped his body against the door frame and continued to glower at the pitiful girl in front of him, taking in her ridiculous appearance.

Her lip trembled for a moment but she caught it between her teeth to hide the evidence of her emotions. Brown curls were loosely secured in a top knot that appeared to be the last address of a family of squirrels. Her red and gold striped pajamas were buttoned to her throat and shapeless enough to hide any hint of a curve. Of course, the purple outer-robe hastily thrown on top of the pajamas did nothing to help, nor did the pink bunny slippers hiding her feet. It was really quite a pathetic sight if he was honest with himself. 15-year-old Draco would have been in heaven with all the teasing material he could pull from this moment — too bad he was a grown man now.

"Suck in that lip, Granger. I'm not really that upset. It's just late and all your huffing and tossing on the couch was bothersome. Get your wand, wave it a few times, and get some Merlin-damned sleep."

Sometimes he could be a prat, but at the moment he was right. She was being ridiculous and needed to get some sleep. "Ok, Draco. I'm sorry I was a horrible person. Go back to bed. I'm fine."

She picked up her wand and cast a few silent charms that immediately lessened her discomfort, before lying back down on the newly transfigured daybed.

Draco walked over and stood next to the bed, looking down at her. His arms were still crossed over his chest, making his muscles appear bigger than she thought they were. Not that she often thought of his muscles. Not at all.

He gave her a quizzical look and opened his mouth. And closed it. And opened it. But no words were directed at her.

Hermione tucked herself back into the coverlet and said, "I've never known you to be speechless before Draco. Spit it out."

"You know I don't think you are a horrible person, right? I didn't intend to hurt your feelings if that's what just occurred." He looked uncomfortable giving a pseudo-apology, but then Malfoy's didn't typically apologize for anything.

Hermione patted the bed near her legs, indicating the man sit down. He smoothed his black pants over his thighs and rested his hands loosely on his knees; he looked uncomfortable.

"I'm not upset at you, I'm disappointed with myself. You were right, even if I didn't consciously think, ' _You know what would be a brilliant plan to swindle the House out of a ton of galleons? A 5-star holiday in Paris with my publishing-agent-ex-nemesis._ ' I still expected more that is necessary to get the work done. I'll be fine. It's fine. Everything's ok." She twisted her hands in the blankets and looked down before continuing, "After all, if we had stayed in the hotel I'd wanted to, it would probably be a crying jag you were annoyed about. I haven't been to Paris since 4th year, and that was one of the last really great memories I have of my parents. As much as I wanted to stay in the same building and do the same activities, it wouldn't have been the best choice in the long-run."

Merlin's pants, her eyes were tearing up. He hadn't seen her cry since 2nd-year and had no idea how to comfort a crying woman. Draco awkwardly patted the lump under the covers that he thought might be a knee. A stroke of brilliance overcame him. He knew just what to do to stop the sniffling girl. "It's fine. Don't cry, Hermione. We are going to suffer through one night here and then I'll cover the cost of a couple nights at my favorite hotel — Prince de Galles. We can get all the research done and have a nice holiday at the same time. My treat for my favorite author." He patted her knee(?) again and smiled hopefully at her.

She burst into sobs. Well. That was the opposite of the response he was looking for. He scooted back a little. No need to get dripped on, after all.

Hermione's voice sounded muffled through her hands, "I c-can't let y-you do that! It's t-too much!" She was horrified. At herself. At the situation. But mostly that Draco Malfoy was witnessing her breakdown. He had to leave. "Please. Just leave me. Go back to sleep. I promise to be quiet and let you get some rest."

If Draco had learned anything from his brief relationship with Pansy Parkinson all those years ago, it was that _leave me alone_ meant _please don't go._ He sighed a deep internal sigh of a truly suffering man before responding. "I'm not going to leave you in misery. I will give you three minutes more of being sad. Then you're done. You're Hermione Granger for Merlin's sake. You are the smartest third of the 'Golden Trio' and arguably the most clever witch of any living generation. Yes, you can feel sad about your parents. But don't let that derail what could be an amazing trip doing what you love the most — research for a new book."

His little speech seemed to shock her into compliance. Well. That was kind of him to say. And he was right. She needed to get it together and go to sleep before a full day of research tomorrow. She was still sad, though, and his attempt at comfort via a hand hitting at her shin was shite. Almost worse than Ron Weasley's attempts at comfort. She shuddered a bit at that thought. She'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Unfortunately, Draco took her shiver to indicate discomfort with his touch; he removed his hand from her leg and stood up quickly, nearly tripping over those damned bunny slippers.

"Do you think — could you just sit with me for awhile? I promise not to cry anymore, I just — I could really do with a hug. You know?"

He did not know. Draco didn't consider himself a particularly touchy-feely man. But the woman was sad and it was sort of his fault. He sighed. Aloud this time. "I suppose one hug wouldn't kill me."

He sat down on the bed again as she leaned forward slowly. When was the last time they'd touched each other? He thought it might have been when he agreed to represent her at the House. But even then, it was only a brief handshake.

Suddenly he couldn't breathe. Hermione had tucked her head into his neck and the riotous curls secured on the top of her head were suffocating him. He pushed her away quickly.

Did she smell? Was it truly painful to let a muggle-born touch him? Why had he agreed to hug her and then just push her away before she derived any comfort from the experience? She bit her lip and cast down her eyes, embarrassed.

He read her expression perfectly and responded in exasperation, "Oh for Merlin's sake. I'm not disgusted by you, silly girl. You were suffocating me with your bushy hair. Now. Come here. Let's try this again."

The second time did not go well either. She swooped in too fast and banged her forehead against his sharp chin. Her eyes began to water again.

Ouch. She was a fucking mess. Why had he agreed to this? She grinned a wobbly grin at him and whispered hopefully, "Third times a charm?" He nodded hesitantly before they carefully leaned in and wrapped their arms around each other.

Wet. Draco immediately regretted his lack of sleep shirt. Hermione's cheek was pressed against his chest and her damp eyelashes kept brushing along his skin. It made his skin tingle. Out of disgust. Probably.

She sighed a happy sound and snuggled in closer the man's arms. Who knew Draco Malfoy was such a good hugger? His arms held her firmly, but not too tight. His heart beat steady in a calming manner. And his breath fanned over her head, causing the stray curls around her ears to tickle her skin slightly. She closed her eyes for a few moments. This would be easy to get used to.

Even with her hair a nest and tear tracks down her cheeks she was still attractive. His arms tightened slightly before he slowly moved back. Other bits of his body were beginning to tighten, too. No need for her to be aware of that. Not yet anyway.

"Better?" He moved away fully and stood up, turning a little to the side and planting his feet apart. Disguise was his best friend. Good thing it was dark in the room.

His departure caused a twinge of regret, but she smiled as brightly as she could, grateful for his apparent sacrifice. She must look a mess. Surely she had made him so uncomfortable. Perhaps their relationship would never be the same due to her moment of weakness.

"Thank you for the comfort. I'll see you in the morning." She lay back and turned away from him. She really needed to get herself under control. This was Draco Malfoy. Her publishing agent. Her old Hogwarts rival. The death eater turned spy. Her heart really shouldn't be racing so uncontrollably after a 30-second comfort-hug. It's not like he felt the same.

Draco shuffled his feet a moment more before turning and going back into his room. "Goodnight, Hermione." He called quietly before shutting the door with a quiet click and casting a strong silencing and locking charm. He had a significant problem to divest himself of and would be mortified if she discovered she was the cause of it.

"What a night." Draco slipped into bed and pulled his black sleeping pants over his hips, might as well get started, they had an early day tomorrow.

—

 **A/N: So they start a bit slow, but remember the story is only 4 or 5 chapters long (depending on if I decide to combine the last two). The fluff will continue and the smut will begin, so hold your horses!**

 **Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Any guesses of where they will finally do the deed?**

 **Side note: The Prince de Galles hotel in Paris is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been to. I was really lucky to spend a night last year. It was fabulous and bursting with beautiful people. You should check out a picture or two!**

 **Thanks so much! xoxo Court**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: If I was half as good a writer as JKR I might not be suffering through a grad degree.**

This was becoming ridiculous. Ever since the incident last night involving a tear-filled hug and an imaginative solo episode, Draco Malfoy was suffering. Not from the heat, although the Parisian sun seemed to reflect Hermione Granger's sunny attitude. Unfortunately for him. He'd had to reapply a sun shielding charm three times to protect his fair skin. She didn't seem to have that problem.

Her pink tongue scooped around the strawberry ice again. He bit back a moan and quickened his pace to put her behind him. There was only so many provocative visuals he could handle before his small problem became a large one — again.

"Draco! Wait up, please. What would your mother say at your lack of manners? Leaving your companion to become lost among the tourists? Don't be rude." Hermione panted a bit as she practically skipped to keep in step with the long-legged blond. The July heat was turning her strawberry ice into a strawberry stream. She licked at the melted mess spilling over her fingers.

Draco groaned loud enough for Hermione to hear. She glanced over at him and raised a brow. "I'm sorry. Now _I'm_ being rude. I seem to have forgotten a napkin." She switched the cone to her other hand and raised the sticky mess for his perusal. "Do you happen to have a spare handkerchief?"

He did. But it was a wonderful Egyptian linen with his initials embroidered on the hem. He really would not take pleasure in seeing it crumpled up and stained with strawberry ice. He sniffed a little in disdain. She hadn't even gotten the good stuff.

"Please, Draco. I know you've got a spare. You always carry an extra." She smiled widely and stuck her sticky hand close to his hair. "Give it to me or I'll cover you in strawberry goo!" She laughed and waved her hand closer to him.

He covered a real shiver of disgust with a theatric cringe, "How dare you threaten my perfect coif. After I moved us into the Prince de Galles I expect nothing but groveling from you for the next two days." He grinned a little wider than usual to make his tease obvious, before fishing out his spare and handing it over with a sigh.

"Thank you so much! After two hours of my brain working over time to understand Mrs. Martin's Polish-accented French, I needed a little ice to cool down!" Hermione and Draco were strolling along the Seine away from the Eiffel Tower. They had just had a charming lunch interview with an adorable old Polish woman who had been the baby sister of a member of the French resistance during World War II. The woman may have been in her upper 80's, but her memory was sharp as a tack and her stories gave Hermione an entire notebook of inspiration for her novel.

"To be honest, I thought I would be your translator. I didn't realize you spoke French so naturally." Draco had been shocked and pleased when Hermione had begun the interview in French. His first thought had been to the reality of her conversing with his father's parents, he'd never had a girlfriend they could naturally talk with before. Translation charms never quite had the same effect. That thought had been — of course — followed by an exasperated _fuck all_. Why in the name of Merlin's pants would he be considering introducing Hermione to his grandparents? They were sometimes-friends at best and business associates at worst.

"It was the same surprise for me. I knew the Malfoy's were of French descent, but I didn't realize how recently the move to Britain had been." Hermione tossed her melted cone into a nearby waste bin and scrubbed at her hands with Draco's handkerchief.

"My father was born here. I would have been as well, but my mother insisted on having her baby at the Black estate. Tradition, I suppose." Draco shrugged and shifted to walk below the striped awning of a tourist stall as they walked by.

"Oh. My. Merlin. This is what we need. Right here. This mug." Hermione had stopped a few steps behind him and was standing just inside the racks of aprons and hats clutching the ugliest coffee mug he'd ever had the misfortune to lay his eyes upon.

Surely this was a joke. "It's," he paused looking for a word that couldn't be taken badly by the excited girl; he couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "It's splendid. How much?" He dug into his pocket, bypassed his shrunken sack of galleons, and pulled out a black leather wallet. Unlike his pension for frugality with House funds, he was well-known for spending his own galleons quite 'willy-nilly' — or so his mother often commented.

Hermione was beaming inside. She picked up the mug on a lark; it really was the ugliest drinking apparatus she'd ever laid her eyes on. The fact that he was oblivious to her teasing manner made it all the more fun. Maybe she'd get them both one.

"It's 30 euros." She bit back a smirk.

"30?!" Draco physically felt ill at spending 30 euros for such a repulsive mug. It was large for a mug — big enough to wrap two hands around — the off-white color was stamped with 'PARIS' and miniature Eiffel Towers in a haphazard manner. The Towers looked a little wrong like they were missing a defining feature, but he couldn't put his finger on the exact mistake. He handed his whole wallet over to Hermione and kept his face impassive. "Go. I'll wait out here while you purchase it."

She came out a moment later swinging a cheerful yellow bag from one hand and tossing him the wallet with her other. Good thing he had mad seeking skills because her aim was about three feet to the left of his knees.

"I think we've had a nice long break. Are you ready to head over to the War Archives? I think we'll find a plethora of information just begging to be unearthed!" She did a little skip and hooked her arm through his elbow. "Maybe a few hours digging there, and then we can move over to the Parisian Ministry's Muggle Relations Office. I have been in contact with Melodie Roberts and she has agreed to meet with us this week and let us look through some old records."

"Lead on. I'm as excited as you are about spending the rest of this marvelous afternoon surrounded by dusty books and inundated with war facts." He wasn't joking. If he didn't get out of the sun soon his nose would be pink. Experience told him that wasn't a great look.

Hermione shot him a glance to see if he was teasing her. He looked sincere enough, so she tugged his arm closer and picked up the pace. "It's only a few blocks more. Right between the Louvre and the Marais."

He tried to focus on the annoying sun instead of her slightly damp grip on his arm. It really was hot, he couldn't blame her for being a little sweaty. But the idea of a sweaty Hermione Granger was sending his brain into a hormone-driven fantasy involving creative positions and strawberry ice — the good kind this time. He let himself get lost in a particularly interesting idea before Hermione's sudden halt forcibly dragged him out of his daydream.

Oh. The light was red. How could she be so unaffected? He was a little annoyed that he was beginning to crave her so much. Why couldn't she feel the same? Or maybe she did? Maybe he just needed to buck up. Could he steal some of her Gryffindor courage in order to make a move?

He snorted. That was a ridiculous thought.

"We're here Draco. And just in time too. Your nose is an awful shade of pink." Hermione reached up and put a finger to his nose gently before laughing.

"Oh for fuck's sake."

—

 **A/N: Here's the next chapter full of fluff. I promise there IS smutty goodness in this story! It's coming right up in the next chapter. Please, as always, leave a review and let me know what you think! xoxo Court**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Still not JKR…**

After two nights in a row of touching himself and thinking of Hermione, Draco Malfoy was frustrated. Frustrated with himself for not having the courage to just say how he felt. Frustrated with Hermione for not giving him any encouragement. Frustrated with the damn Prince de Galles hotel for being so luxurious that he never wanted to leave, regardless of the 2500 euro/night price tag.

Glancing around the bedroom in admiration, Draco heaved himself out of the velvet armchair and left the warmth of the fire. As much as he wanted to bask in the pleasantness of it all, he also needed a shower and a drink. Hermione had been high on research all day, enhancing her tendency towards clumsiness, which led to dust being blown into his pristine hair and a bruise forming on his foot from a dropped book. He cringed. 25-pound books should be carried carefully, not thrown at his poor feet.

He reached behind him and yanked his white polo off over his head with one hand, simultaneously unbuckling his belt and loosening his trousers. He was very adept at undressing himself quickly. Lots of practice when there was a waiting witch on his bed. He smirked at the image of a willing witch spread out in want of him. Then groaned. Of course, his dream girl looked exactly like Hermione. He punished himself for thinking of her again by blasting the water with high heat. Ok, so a super hot shower wasn't exactly a punishment. He grabbed himself and continued his previous fantasy.

Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy was rather loud when he was in the throes of passion — even if it was self-inflicted. Hermione Granger paused outside the bathroom door connecting to the living room. She hadn't meant to overhear anything private, but when walking by the door the noise had caught her attention. It wasn't her fault that she'd been dreaming of what Draco sounded like. Her fantasies weren't too far off. In fact, as her hands started to caress herself, she smiled at the addition to her favorite visions.

Their simultaneous explosion was unexpected. Unbeknownst to Draco, Hermione had at that moment realized the depth of her feelings for her publishing agent. Sure, he was technically her boss and she owed him much for getting her to the successful point in her career she had reached. But if she took their business relationship out of the equation, she could think of several pros to building a romance with the blond.

One. He was her intellectual equal. If the past two days had reiterated anything for her, it was that Draco could keep up a conversation, follow her wandering thought trails, and contribute in highly metacognitive hypothetical brainstorming sessions. That was probably the trait that got her the hottest.

Two. Draco was humorous. He was witty and snarky and his teasing kept her on her toes. She appreciated his puns and loved his obscure references. Hermione laughed more _with_ Draco than she laughed _at_ Ronald Weasley. And that was saying something.

Three. Far from the final item on her mental list, but the one that could get her hung up for many minutes, Draco Malfoy was hot. He had the reformed bad boy aura that she logically knew she shouldn't encourage. But oh. His blond hair, gray eyes, lithe muscles, and two visible tattoos did something to her insides that made her feel like goo. But the good kind. He generally wore all black which only added to his mysterious image.

Hermione sighed to herself and cocked her head. She couldn't hear the shower anymore. Perhaps she should haul herself off the floor next to the bathroom door before —

— the door was yanked open, causing her to jump to her feet.

"Hermione? Were you on the floor? Oh, Merlin. Did you hear — that wasn't — I — um." Draco had paled considerably when he thought about what Hermione had most likely witnessed. There went his chance of ever being with her. Now she thought he was some kind of deviant who used her form wank material. He kept a firm hold on the towel around his hips and dragged a palm down his face.

Draco was so caught up in his own embarrassment he hadn't caught a good look at Hermione. If he had, he would've noticed that here eyes were extra bright, her pupils were dilated, she had a light sheen of sweat on her brow, her cheeks were flushed a splotchy pink, and her linen sundress was irreparably wrinkled at the hem.

She tried to back away and escape to her room before he noticed her appearance and put two and two together. "No. It's fine. I'll just — I'm going to — ok. Good night." She spun around and fled to her room.

Really. Was she a Gryffindor or wasn't she? Draco had presented the perfect opening for her to declare herself and she had fled like a rabbit from a fox. Fuck all. She could do this. She was Hermione Granger.

Hermione quickly pulled a comb through her curls, changed into her pajamas, and cast a calming charm to disguise her racing heart and flushed cheeks. Her hand paused on the door knob before reaching up to unfasten the top and bottom two buttons on her shirt. She was going to attempt a seduction after all.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione flung open the door and marched across the spacious living space of the suite. She momentarily paused for another strengthening breath before rapping sharply on the door.

She winced at the possible perceived tone. She might have come off annoyed, but really she was just nervous and anticipating the possible enjoyable outcome after the knock. No time to waste on a weak wrist movement.

Draco walked over to the door and peeked out. His hid his naked body behind the door and raised a brow at the woman in front of him.

Hermione had obviously prepared for something. Her hair was fluffed becomingly and the buttons on her pajama top were mysteriously unfastened. That was interesting. He looked her up and down, pausing at her lips, breasts, and bare toes before looking into her eyes. He nearly fell back in shock at the blatantly exposed desire pouring out of her.

"I want you." She tucked a curl behind an ear absentmindedly before continuing. "I heard you in the shower and brought myself to finish listening to you. I think we should explore each other and we should do it now. You know, while the desire is still fresh." She curled her toes into the plush carpet and clasped her hands in front of her tightly. Please say yes. Please say yes.

Draco moved and opened the door wider, revealing himself in all his fully naked and erect glory. He allowed himself a mental pat on the back as he watched Hermione's jaw drop at the sight of him. He knew he looked good. He played in a quidditch league on Sundays and the captain of his undefeated team was brutal about conditioning.

A breathy sort of 'oh' passed her lips and she bit down on the bottom one as if to stop further sounds from escaping. Well, that wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. Draco loved the noises witches made in pleasure. He had a feeling the noises Hermione made tonight would stay with him forever.

"I can't say 'no' to a declaration like that." Draco stepped closer hesitantly, almost afraid this was a joke and she was going to laugh in his face. She didn't move away. In fact, at his movement, Hermione launched herself into his arms and grabbed his face.

"I'm going to kiss you now before I lose my courage." She pulled his lips to hers and move them slowly together while Draco was still in shock. The shock faded quickly and he wrapped an arm around her waist, hoisting her up to meet him more comfortably. Nine inches of height difference wasn't the most convenient angle for snogging.

Hermione was not an unexperienced woman. She wrapped her legs around Draco's hips and boosted herself up so that her core was pressing down on his massive erection. She ground herself down a little eliciting a moan from Draco as he pushed her against the back of the door.

"I need you, too. Can we divest of your pajamas now?" Hermione barely had time to nod her head before Draco was ripping her shirt away and yanking her pants to the floor. He readjusted their position and held himself right at her entrance. "I know I should prepare you and we should maybe be on the bed, but Hermione, if this isn't the hottest thing I've ever seen right now — I —"

Hermione interrupted him by pushing down and impaling herself on him. They both moaned loudly at the connection before they began a rather uncoordinated rhythm.

"So tight." He bit her bottom lip lightly.

"Fuck me." She gripped his hair tightly.

"With pleasure." Draco sped up his actions and Hermione gave into following his lead. For a moment, the only sounds that could be heard were the slapping of sweaty bodies against each other, quiet _fuck_ s and _Merlin, that feels good_ and desperate moans.

Hermione's back was becoming sore from the back and forth movement against the door, but she wasn't about to complain. In fact, "Merlin. Fuck. Draco. I'm going to —" She never said what she was going to do, but her muscles were twitching and she began to contract around him.

Draco thanked Merlin he'd been able to hold out for the whole five minutes, his orgasm started before hers had finished. "Fuck. Hermione."

They slid to the floor a tangle of sweaty limbs and twitching muscles. Draco pulled Hermione against him and began to explore her body with his hands. He'd been too preoccupied to feel her before.

"That was wonderful." Hermione sighed with pleasure and her nipples tightened at Draco's keen inspection of her breasts. "How soon before you're ready to go again?"

The nudge against her hip gave her an immediate answer.

Draco smirked. "I'm always ready to go. Do you mind if we move to the bed? Or perhaps the chair by the fire? Maybe the shower?"

Hermione copied the look on his face. "D. All of the above."

"Sassy."

"You love it."

Draco kissed her again in reply.

—

 **A/N: Hey y'all! Here's some smut, fresh off the press! I tried to keep it classy which is super hard when I just want it to be dirty. Anyway, please review! Let me know what you think!**

 **I'll have the last chapter posted by the end of the week. Warning, if you haven't read the one-shot I wrote before this story, Draco and Hermione don't exactly end well now. (They do it the future, though, so go read** ** _The 'Write' Side of the Bed_** **for fluffy happiness!)**

 **As always, please review! It helps me know whether people actually read, or if clicking on the story was a horrible accident.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Just a poor grad student trying to procrastinate. Not JKR.**

He was suffocating. Or drowning. It was a very odd dream that he couldn't quite decipher. Regardless, there was a lack of breath. And lots of brown stuff. Seaweed? He floated into consciousness with an edge of panic. He still couldn't breathe.

Oh. It wasn't seaweed at all. Hair was thrown over his face and was stuffed all in his nose and mouth. Hair? He took stock of his current situation as he tried to resurface from the literal bush. What happened to the gorgeous curls from last night? Flashes of a shower and his hands knotted in her hair made him smirk. He'd happened, apparently.

A sudden painful twinge of his shoulder brought his attention back to his current desperate state. While he'd managed to maneuver his nose around the hair, he was still trapped by Hermione. She was lying halfway across his chest, one leg entangled with his own, and a hand clutching at the sheet pulled lightly over them. This had to stop. He couldn't feel his fingers and that wasn't ok. His wiggling caused her to curl into a protective ball, nearly kneeing him in a very sensitive place and sharply jabbing him in the side.

He pushed her off of him and leaped to the bathroom. That elbow to the kidney made him realize how badly he had to pee.

"Mmph," Hermione barely mumbled but slept through his shove and curled into a tighter ball. She was having a delicious dream of a beach, a mojito, and a blond surfer. A hot blond surfer if the little drool on her chin was any indication.

Draco came back into the room and surveyed the damage. And he meant literal damage. He'd have to charm everything back into repair to avoid a hefty fee from the hotel. Although the feathers around the room looked bad, the door hanging crookedly from its frame was probably the worst. Their naughty pillow fight had clearly gotten out of hand. Draco retrieved his wand, cast a _reparo_ and left the room. Might as well let her sleep in, they hadn't done much of that last night.

Hermione was still asleep an hour later without any sign of awakening and Draco Malfoy was bored. Malfoy's didn't DO bored. Not unless it was a carefully crafted facade. Not a real feeling. He glanced back at the room. She probably wouldn't mind if he went out and got some lunch, she'd be sleeping anyway. Draco slipped into his loafers, grabbed his wand, and left the hotel in search of food.

When the door closed, Hermione was forced back into reality and away from where things were about to go down with the blond surfer. She stretched and enjoyed the soreness she only ever felt after a good shag. The last one had been a few months ago with a wizard who worked with Harry in the auror department. He'd been quite good as well.

Hermione sat up and glanced around the room, hadn't there been little feathers floating around when she fell asleep? She smiled at the clean room; Draco must have straightened up the mess. That was nice of him. She put her hand on the spot where he'd been laying. The sheets were cold indicating a long time had passed since he had been in bed.

She frowned. What could be keeping him? Surely he'd want a morning repeat? She glanced at the clock on the table. Or an afternoon repeat. Goodness, was it two o'clock already? Hermione got out of bed and moved into the bathroom. She wanted to try to make herself halfway decent before Draco walked back in. Patting her hair, she decided a shower was in order. And a bucket of conditioner.

Draco strolled along the pathways of the _Jardin de Tuileries_. He had a baguette under one arm and was munching on the end bit. It was still warm and melting in his mouth. He'd been annoyed at his wake-up call and the mess this morning, but now that he'd had time to think about it, the night with Hermione really was one of the best things that could've come out of this week. He enjoyed working with the witch and had specifically requested her account at the House in order to spend time together. Not that he'd ever let _that_ slip to her.

Spotting a free spot in the shade of a hedge, Draco made his way over and sat down slowly. Good thing his house elf was good with grass stains. He'd never been capable of handling them himself. He laid out a little bit more and cushioned his head on his arm. Maybe a short nap would let him come to a decision on how to bring up a relationship with Hermione. Draco drifted off into a pseudo-sleep, halfway aware of the sounds of children and dogs playing around him. This he could get used to.

Hermione sat at the table surrounded by her notes and research materials. It was nearly seven; Draco hadn't returned and Hermione was angry. What did he think he was doing? She was worried he was hurt and angry he had left her. She was confused about their night together and desperately wanted to talk about what it meant for their future — if anything. He was going to get himself a stern talking-to when he got back.

While Hermione was working herself into a fit about Draco's whereabouts, the man in question was being woken up by a slobbery kiss from a poodle. Serves him right for falling asleep right where the dog walkers liked to meet up for play time.

" _Je suis désolé_!" A young man called to him as Draco stood up quickly to avoid the enthusiastic pup. " _Allons-y, Bleu_!" The man jogged over and hooked the dog up to a leash. " _De rien."_ But the man had left before he heard that it wasn't a problem. What a mess. Draco fished in his pocket for his favorite handkerchief and attempted to bring himself to rights. It was difficult due to the amount of slobber, but he tried. As he shoved the soiled cloth into his pants his stomach growled. Hungry, already? He glanced at his wristwatch and broke into a sweat.

It was 7:45. In the evening. He'd slept the entire afternoon away. Hermione was going to kill him. He ducked into an alley and slipped behind a stairwell before he said _fuck it all_ and disapparated with a nearly silent _pop_.

Hermione was relishing the heady scent of cinnamon bubble bath as she lay soaking up to her neck. Her thoughts had finally calmed and she was nearly asleep when she heard a faint sound from the living room. Draco. Without thinking about the implications, Hermione jumped from the tub and darted out of the bathroom yelling, "Draco Malfoy! I have a bone to pick with you!"

The sight of her lithe body soaking wet and her breasts heaving, glistening with the remains of suds, gave Draco an immediate erection. Perfect timing.

"Oh yeah?" He had to play it cool. He leaned against the back of the sofa and crossed his arms over hist chest. "Did I leave you unsatisfied? Are you ready to go again?" He raised a brow at her state of undress.

"I obviously didn't think this through — and that's the only time you'll ever hear those words cross my lips — but I don't care that I'm starkers right now. I'm raving. I have been so worried because you've been missing all day! Didn't you care how I'd feel when I woke up alone? Didn't you think for a moment that we should talk about this?" Hermione crossed her arms to match his pose. It only made her more desirable assets push up prominently. That was not helpful for the flow of blood to his brain. Or lack thereof. That problem was clear in his reply.

"I was chocking it up to being in the City of Lights. It has a heady aroma. You know? The noxious fumes of muggle mating is about driving me mad. Don't you feel the same?" He turned casually and headed into the bedroom to freshen up for dinner. He smelled of grass and dog.

"Noxious…" Hermione's cheeks turned red and she looked like she could have an aneurysm at any moment from not breathing. Then, she nodded once to herself as if she'd reached a decision. That was it. It was just a one-night stand. Clearly her feelings were one-sided. She was an adult. She'd been in these situations before. She'd suck it up and let it go.

Draco began talking from the room behind her, pulling her out of her head. "Do you want to order in food so we can work on the research more? Or would you like to spend the last night on the town before we leave early tomorrow for London?"

An adult. A big girl. A fucking woman. She could let it go. Let. It. Go. Hermione took a deep breath and forced a smile before she called her reply over her shoulder and went to get dressed. "Let's stay in. I want to translate the transcripts from the two interviews. I could use your expertise in the language in doing so."

She sounded so calm that Draco thought he'd imagined her impassioned stance a few minutes before. But the image of her standing naked and wet from her bath would stay with him forever. Thank Merlin. If she could play it cool, so could he. He hadn't meant to be so snarky, but that's what inevitably happened when a naked woman — Hermione — was standing in front of him. His word vomit filter malfunctioned and he fucked things up. Or at least he thought he did. Maybe he hadn't? He'd be extra cautious, though, just in case.

"Pizza?" He picked up the phone to dial up room service.

"Perfect!"

Hermione had put on her business-like pajamas. Again buttoned to her throat and was sitting cross-legged on the floor by the couch. Her work was spread around her and twin pencils were holding her hair in a messy bun. He looked at her and sighed. Hopefully, he hadn't fucked everything up. He really, really hoped not.

"Are we… ok? I don't want things to be awkward or strange." Draco tried to broach the subject of continuing their relationship, but he needed to gauge her current feelings. Hermione smiled at him, no strangeness lurking in her expression.

"Us? We'll always be ok. We're almost friends after being business associates for so long. I'd hate to revert on all the progress we've made." Nonchalant. Ok. She was doing well in holding in her cracked heart.

Almost blasé. He guessed it really wasn't a big deal. And she clearly didn't reciprocate any feelings. At least not at the level he felt them. Well then. Pizza and research and on with their friendship.

"In fact, let's never talk about last night again. It was a mistake and we just need to focus on our relationship as it pertains to business. Agreed?"

It physically pained Draco to respond in the affirmative. "Agreed."

And that was that. Hermione and Draco were able to finish out their research that evening without mentioning the night before, without too much awkwardness, and without any obvious feelings interfering with their work. They were friends. Or at least, friendly associates. And that's how it would remain.

 _Fin_

 **A/N: And that's the end of that! I hope you enjoyed this prequel-esque fic for my one-shot, "The 'Write' Side of the Bed. I enjoyed writing it! I was so wrapped up in writing this week that I'm falling behind in my grad work and in my actual job so I hope you can reward me for that by reviewing! xoxo Court**

 **French Translations:**

 **Je suis désolé - I'm sorry.**

 **Allons-y, Bleu - Let's go, Blue.**

 **De rien - no problem/it's nothing**


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